Nice Guys Don't Lie
by Radio1710
Summary: When Sarah Walker is assigned to Burbank to recover the Intersect, she doesn't expect Chuck Bartowski to put all her spy skills to the test. A better summary inside, rating may change with time. Slight AU! Reviews appreciated!
1. The Nice Guy

Hey guys. I was really happy with the reviews I got for my first piece on this site, Sarah Walker vs His Passing. I know it was a bit depressing, and I don't intend to write anything as sad anytime soon, so have no fear! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're awesome! This is my new story I'll be writing. I have a 2-3 chapter buffer at the moment, but no doubt that'll vanish quickly, so I can't make promises about updates, you'll just have to trust my judgement!

The idea of this story is that Sarah Walker is assigned to find the whereabouts of the Intersect from Chuck, but unlike the show, Casey doesn't ruin things on the first date, and Chuck has a secret of his own. What does this mean for our heroes? Time will tell! You'll have to read and let me know! And because I love torturing you guys, I'm quite a big fan of cliffhangars... so yeah, good luck with that.

Unfortunately, the first chapter is pretty much the first half of the Pilot from the show, but hopefully it's a bit more interesting if it's from Sarah's POV, I promise the next chapters won't be as similar to the show, and thus will be more exciting!

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. Bad times.

* * *

Sarah Walker looked herself over in her car's mirror, satisfied that no hair was out of place and she had applied her make-up perfectly. She climbed gracefully out of her black Porsche, her 'baby', and walked towards the Buy More. She had decided to go for a casual, yet attractive look, to ensure she looked like an ordinary civilian. From experience, she had learned that it was easier to work slowly with civilians, whereas with the rich types, you had to show a little to get places. If she had been told when she had joined the CIA that she was going to be used more often for her 'assets' rather than combat skills and excellent track record, she may have reconsidered joining. She was here now though, and her job satisfaction came from seeing her marks either behind bars, or six feet under, knowing she had done it for the good of the country.

The doors into the electronics store opened and she stepped through, instantly catching the eye of a balding employee who looked like he was drunk. The drunk's associate, an Indian-looking man quickly pulled him out of the way. Sarah was thankful for that; she had already spotted her mark and needed no one getting in her way. Tall, slim, brown curly hair with a tie and white shirt, working in the Nerd Herd under the name 'Charles Bartowski'. The Director had made sure that she bring the mark in by any means necessary; so naturally, Sarah decided to go with what she knew, and would try the old fashioned honey trap method. After all, these geeks rarely saw women as stunning as she was right? The two employees she had already seen had confirmed her suspicions that not many women walked around Burbank; this gave her an advantage already. She had a week before the Director would do things his way; she was just glad that she was his protégé and could convince him otherwise; she needed a bit of a simple assignment to get over Larkin going rogue.

The mark, or Charles, was behind the Nerd Herd desk with a friend, discussing something rather than actually working. From first looks (even though she had seen a photo of him when given the assignment, the photo from his Buy More nametag, which was hardly flattering), she had to say he was relatively attractive. No Bryce Larkin when it came to looks, but he had a certain quality about him that she reckoned some women may find attractive. He was oblivious to her as she approached, but the green-shirt saw her, muttering something under his breath to Charles.

"Vicki Vale, Vi-Vi-Vicki vale, Vickity-Vickity-Vi-Vi-Vicky Vale," he rapped, and she had to make sure she didn't smirk to make the best first impression. She stood quietly and made brief eye contact with his friend, before smiling as she waited for him to finish.

When he did eventually notice her, he dropped the files he was holding and the phone in a comical manner, causing her smile to widen. "I hope I'm not interrupting," she beamed. They were less than an arms distance from each other, and she had made sure that she had worn perfume that day for close situations like this.

"Uh no... not at all. Wh-that's from Batman," Charles stuttered, shocked by her appearance.

"Because that makes it better," she smirked. So he liked Batman too; not much of a surprise. Sarah thought she may have seen one of the movies undercover a while back, but she had spent most of the film watching a mark that had been using the cinema as a meeting-place with an arms dealer.

At this point Bartowski was still clearly dumbstruck, so his friend stepped in to introduce them. Sarah wagered that she could break the ice a bit by cracking a joke at their names. "I didn't realise people still called their kids Chuck or Morgan for that matter," she grinned. She thought his name was Charles Bartowski, Chuck must have been his nickname, that was what it said on his nametag after all.

Chuck seemingly shook off his shyness and rattled off some explanation about how he and Morgan got their names. She didn't really pay attention, although she gave the impression she did, she was too busy memorising the way he spoke, the hand gestures he made and his body language. His shyness was obvious, especially around women, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. No doubt he was a relatively decent actor to cover up all the shady business he no doubt did, but his eyes didn't speak of any nefarious ideals in that head of his… it was strange.

"How can I help you…?" Chuck asked, fishing for a name.

"Sarah," she answered, "I'm here about this." She placed her old phone on the desk. It had been broken for a year now, and she had long since bought a new phone; it would be a simple test to see if he was a 'Nerd Herder' and a cover-up for her being in the store.

"Ah, the Intellicell, absolutely. This model has a little screw that pops loose in the back here. A few quick turns aaaand, good as new. No problem." He handed the fixed phone back to her and she was impressed. It was a quick fix, but he hadn't given any of that superstore bullshit about it being $100 an hour fix only to leave it sitting on a shelf for three days.

"Wow, you geeks are good." Sarah had made her first screw-up. By their reaction to the word 'geek', it was almost like she had slapped both of them in the face. Inside she swore at herself for not going with nerd, after all, it was said everywhere in the store. On the outside though, she maintained her cover and continued to smile and laugh at every other sentence Chuck seemed to say.

That was when a man with his daughter in a ballerina's outfit came running up to the desk, grabbing focus away from her. Apparently he had some problem with recording her recital. Chuck of course rose to the challenge and took the digital camera off the man and opened it up. Turns out the man didn't have any digital tape in there. Sarah thought she may have made the same mistake once if it wasn't for all the surveillance equipment she had worked with. Chuck then did something she didn't expect, he looked at her for a second, before he clearly came to a decision in his mind. "Morgan, I need the wall."

"Its yours," Morgan pointed and ran off to the back of the shop. Sarah was curious now. Chuck said a fleeting apology as he lead the two away to whatever 'the wall' was. Sarah remained where she was, her curiosity overwhelming the voice inside that was kicking her for letting her mark get away. Had she been identified and he was making his way for the back exit?

After a couple of minutes of fiddling around at the back, he emerged with the young girl in tow. Some green-shirts had moves a couple of stands and tables, clearing the space where Chuck and the girl now stood. The rows of televisions in the background were connected to the camera, so they all showed the young ballerina being whispered to by the Nerd Herder. Morgan to the side started the music and Chuck stepped away as she began her routine. Sarah actually found herself craning her neck to get a better view of the dancer. This was after all, what she gave up her life for; so that parents could see their daughter's recitals in peace, so that ordinary American citizens didn't have to live in fear.

After the ballerina finished her routine, Chuck began walking back towards her with an award-winning smile on his face when her real phone buzzed in her pocket. She knew exactly what that meant, so she needed to answer it quickly, but she couldn't risk blowing her attempts with Chuck by leaving now. She saw he had been caught in conversation with a short green-shirt, and took that as an opportunity to leave, placing her card delicately on the desk. On her way out of the shop, she caught the same drunken Nerd herder staring at her rear, but chose to ignore him. He just better not do it again…

She walked across the car park and climbed back into her Porsche before taking out her phone and dialling a number. "Walker, secure."

The man on the other end of the phone was in the CIA, and he had been doing a bit of research on the Bartowski family to detect anything shady. "I have the information you requested Agent Walker. Charles Irving Bartowski has a sister, Eleanor, who works at the hospital. He currently lives with her and has worked at the Buy More for the last few years as a Nerd herder with a near exemplary service record working with computers. Nothing irregular has been linked with his bank account, and he barely makes enough money to pay his way. Pretty surprising if you ask me considering he went to Stanford…"

"Stanford?" Sarah's eyebrows rose, she hadn't expected him to be that well educated. "How did he wind up in the Buy More?"

"It looks like he was expelled in the final semester of his third year for cheating, and maybe running a small test-selling operation amongst the other students. One of his roommates was Agent Larkin. I've sent his address and work schedule to your email account. That's all I have for now, I'll give you a call when I have more information." The phone went dead before Sarah could thank him. Nothing out of the ordinary with him thus far; but perhaps the cheating at Stanford spoke of a darker side to him. At least Sarah knew how Bryce had known him; being roommates before he became an agent with the CIA, unless Chuck knew he was already an agent. That would complicate things if it were true.

* * *

Sarah drove her car out of the Buy More plaza and drove the short distance to her CIA digs. The hotel had a fantastic view of Los Angeles, with huge panoramic windows. She may have felt a bit self conscious of peeping-toms, were she not on one of the upper floors. If someone wanted a peep, they would have to have some seriously high-tech equipment, and if that was the case, it was easier to let them than worry all the time. Having just arrived in Burbank that morning, she had yet to unpack; not that she had many possessions anyway. CIA missions required her to travel light, so she managed to fit all her worldly belongings in a medium-sized suitcase, with a bit of room to spare. Generally, the CIA would send her anything she needed in the way of clothing or equipment, so she really didn't have to worry. It meant it was easy to pack up and leave at a moment's notice, which was perfect for her line of work, even if a little depressing to realise everything you owned was in one small bag.

Sarah didn't stay in her hotel room for long. With the work schedule her contact had given her, she had around an hour to find his computer and take it back to the labs. Assuming it all went to plan, government analysts could ascertain if Chuck had sent the Intersect to more people, or if he had even opened Bryce's message. The rest would be handled from there. Until then, she just had to get that computer. If she was quick, she could make it to his apartment in ten minutes. Luckily for America, Sarah Walker was a very fast driver.

She had unhooked the computer and was on her way out the door. She was dressed fully in black, in anyone had seen her, they would have struggled to even tell if she was female or not. Unfortunately for Agent Walker, today was one of those days. She had picked the lock of the Bartowski Apartment and had looked around for a bit before finding Chuck's room. The apartment was very clean, and well lived in. If her spy instincts hadn't warned her otherwise, she may have picked up one of the pictures of Chuck and a girl who must have been his sister, judging by what her informant had told her. She had walked into Eleanor's room first, but quickly realised her mistake when she saw the lack of a computer, and the feminine clothing draped on hangars.

When she stepped into Chuck's room, she was at first surprised. It looked like the room of a high-schooler, posters of films she had never seen and music she had never heard; it was a little eerie, like she was walking into a room which rejected everything she knew, like she wasn't knowledgeable enough to be in there. Again though, her spy instincts kicked in and she immediately placed a couple of small bugs around his room, as well as one very small security camera, before going to his computer. She smirked briefly at the Post-It note that said 'Professional Nerd' before taking all the leads out from his computer. She had picked it up and was on her way out of the front door when it opened.

She froze.

The two men froze.

Chuck and Morgan had come home early, and caught her in the act. Luckily, she couldn't be identified, and she remained silent, just calculating as to what they would do next. If Chuck was a trained agent, she would have a fight on her hands; if not, she would go easy on him.

"Please… not the computer…" he managed to say, whilst she put the computer down on the ground. She squared up to them, striking a pose intended to intimidate, and not let on to the fact that she was a woman; thus potentially giving her the element of surprise.

Suddenly a bowl was thrown at her, then a small statuette. She reacted quickly and knocked them out of her path, unfortunately into Chuck's chest and private-area. Judging from the yelp he let out, she had hit them back faster than Morgan had thrown them. When Chuck started to walk towards her, she was perhaps a little too aggressive, considering the way he walked he was clearly in pain. But it didn't pay to be careless in her line of work, so she kicked him backwards into a table, using the computer as a distraction before propping it on a shelf. Morgan tried to come to his aid, but with the help of a golf-club, she sent him reeling into Chuck.

A crash behind her caused her to spin, seeing the computer fall off the shelf and pretty much explode, wiring and circuit-board going everywhere. She had to bail before her identity was blown, and had no time to try and salvage the wreckage of his computer. Sprinting out of his apartment complex, she leapt into her Porsche and sped off, before ripping off her balaclava and swearing.

* * *

She had spent the night in her hotel room reviewing her plans thus far. She did this via a small notebook that she would burn later to cover her traces. This was both a methodical and emotional method she had been taught at the Farm, so she could write down what she was feeling without fears of being reprimanded or found out, thus allowing her to continue her cold exterior when it was most important; on missions.

She looked down at the notepad and frowned slightly. She hadn't written down too much yet, her mind being elsewhere, but she still reviewed what she had thus far:

_Charles Irving Bartowski – 'Chuck'_

_Helpful_

_Polite_

_Nervous_

_Cute_

Wait, what the hell? This was what happened when she let her mind wander… she angrily scratched through it with a pencil, hard enough that she actually ripped the page and the one below. She sighed and ripped both out before starting again.

_Chuck Bartowski – no visible leads to Larkin, possible act. Computer destroyed beyond repair. Possible backup, must pursue. Tall, long limbed – possible strength._

_Morgan – friend of Chuck, possibly in on the Intersect, treat with caution. Too short and unfit to be a major threat._

_Plan? Seduce Chuck and be told information willingly. Have until the end of the week to get it or NSA gets involved. Must be fast._

Sarah read the last line and frowned. She had seduced many marks before, and she had already made inroads with Chuck, but it never felt right with nice guys. Admittedly, she didn't come across many nice guys in her line of work, as they were usually all an act. Chuck seemed so genuine, that even her people-reading skills were useless. She would have to find out the good old fashioned way.

The book was shoved back into her suitcase and she got ready for bed. Tomorrow she would explain the situation to Graham and make her move, as, to her dismay, Chuck hadn't called, despite her giving him all the right signals… hadn't she?


	2. Dating Mr Bartowski

Chapter two is up! Slightly longer than the first one. This chapter is the final one that really follows any storyline from the pilot, but won't follow the storyline exactly. Remember that the NSA isn't going to show up on their first date this time round!

Don't take this as a sign I'll update every couple of days or my buffer will be gone in no time! Please leave me a review, positive or negative; I take everything said into consideration and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, bad times.

* * *

Sarah walked slowly into the store again the next morning, a bit miffed at her conversation with Graham. He had managed to convince the NSA to give them a bit more time before they sent in Agent Casey, who was the bee's knees apparently. After all, Larkin was one of theirs and this assignment thus fell primarily into the CIA's jurisdiction, even though it was a matter of national security. Apparently Casey would be sent in as soon as their week was up, and until then, would be in the Burbank area scouting for any other local chatter about the Intersect.

The creepy drunk was watching her from behind a CD stand yet again she noticed. The pink blouse and grey skirt she had decided to wear today didn't help to discourage him. When his eyes met hers, she gave him a glare that could make assassins wince, and the man turned away, whimpering slightly. Hopefully he wouldn't bother her again, but it wouldn't surprise her if he did.

She spotted her mark, face down in the desk. She eyed her CIA issue watch, which, surprisingly enough, as well as a tracker and communication device, also functioned as a watch! It was 10am, he had been at work for less than an hour and he already looked like he wanted to clock out. Her spy-mind wondered as to what he had been doing to be so tired; perhaps that was why he hadn't called her she thought, before she cursed.

"Get your head in the game Walker," she hissed to herself, before putting on a large smile and walking up to the desk. He didn't notice her walk up, just like yesterday. She rang the bell to grab his attention, and next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand. For a second, her heart froze. He had grabbed her right hand, her gun hand. Had it been an act?

"Morgan… not now," he groaned at the same time. She felt his hand searching hers, and suddenly he sprang up as he saw it was her and not Morgan. Her heart slowed as she realised it had just been a misunderstanding. "Uh, hi," he breathed. "Phone trouble again?" he whipped out his screwdriver, expecting her to put her old phone back down on the desk.

"Uh yeah, I'm not sure I'm able to receive calls," her eyes fell to the desk, before slowly returning to meet his gaze, and a small grin flicked the edge of her cheeks, "because I never got one from you…"

A small laugh erupted from behind the Nerd Herd desk and Sarah's eyes shot to Morgan. Chuck just stood there flabbergasted at her line, it clearly having the desired effect. Chuck broke out of his trance and shot Morgan a glare, before the bearded man quickly scarpered.

Sarah smiled as he turned back, and explained why she had to leave so quickly yesterday. She noticed how he still held out his screwdriver, before he put it away in his back pocket, clearly slightly embarrassed that he still had it out. "I was wondering if you'd show me around. That is… if you're free," she continued, her eyes locked onto his.

Again, Morgan cut in, which Sarah was a little glad of, as she wasn't sure if Chuck was even able to respond. He said something about Chuck being completely free, before being shot another glare, and left again. "Well it looks like my schedule is wide open," he grinned.

"Great," she beamed back, and he agreed to pick her up from her place later that evening. Luckily he wasn't working any nightshifts later that week, she had noted from his work schedule, so she had as much time as he could afford, assuming the date went to plan. She said her goodbyes, and even waved to Morgan as she left the store. No drunken eyes on her this time, she noted.

So far so good with Chuck. Now she had a date to prepare for, and prepare for Sarah Walker didn't mean choose an outfit or makeup. It meant cleaning her Smith & Wesson, getting sedative from a contact in Burbank just in case, and preparing her room to make it looked like she actually lived there, in case she did manage to 'bed' Chuck tonight. She did have a record in the CIA for seductions though, she estimated it would take two dates tops; but she was quietly confident it would take her just the one night.

* * *

She had just finished placing the last photo on the side when the door knocked. It had been a photo of her on a beach with a Golden Retriever. Of course, she had never had a dog, but the guys at the CIA could certainly edit her into a photo. On the rare occasion that she had been asked, she had explained it was the pet of wherever she had told her mark she came from. So in Chuck's case, it would have been her ex's dog. She had to be careful not to slip up and mention Bryce, so constantly reminded herself he was called Bruce. Close enough to be the truth, but wouldn't alert Chuck to who she really was.

She went to the door and opened it to be greeted by Chuck with a large bouquet of flowers. She allowed herself to smile back and graciously accepted them. She began to smell, but kept her distance, just in case there was some drug buried between the petals. "Very chivalrous Chuck," she smiled, and put them in a jug, filling it with water from the kitchenette in her apartment. She turned to see he was still stood outside, although was craning his neck to get a good look around. "Do come in."

With surprising speed he crossed the threshold and closed the door gingerly behind him. He didn't enter too far, but stood with his hands in his pocket, not quite sure what to do. "Nice place," he said. "Beautiful view."

"Yeah, it's just temporary until my realtor finds me somewhere more permanent," she lied.

"I don't know if I could move to a new area without finding a place first," he chuckled. "I know my sister would completely freak out at the thought."

Sarah didn't like the way the conversation was heading, so quickly changed the subject. "Can I get you something to drink Chuck?"

"Actually no thanks. If it's okay with you, I made dinner reservations in twenty minutes, so if we leave now we can get there on time."

"Ooh, where are we going?" Sarah questioned, genuinely curious, as she stepped out of the kitchenette with the vase, placing it on a cupboard.

"A gentleman never tells," he smiled, tapping his nose with his finger. She shook her head in disbelief and grabbed her jacket, before locking the apartment behind her. She noted her didn't check her out when her back was turned, so that was relatively new for her as well, maybe this Chuck was the real deal. The two of them made their way downstairs.

"So this is your car?" she smirked, eyeing up the bright red and white car. Chuck stood opposite her at the driver's side and shrugged sheepishly.

"I'll have you know that the Nerd Herders are deceptively fast. When damsels in distress like you need your phones fixed, who you gonna call? Nerd Herder!" He rubbed the top of the car affectionately, before looking at her. She knew he had made a reference to something, but she couldn't place it. "Ghost Busters? No? Heh, lets get moving."

* * *

Chuck held the door open for her as they entered the Mexican restaurant. There was a band playing and the lights were low, but she thought it looked perfect to 'get to know' her mark. The place could even seem romantic, although she wasn't after romance, just convince him she was into him, get him to trust her with a screw or two, and then get the information out of him any way necessary.

At first, the night had started slowly, with Chuck explaining things about himself and Sarah listening intently. It was her job to know everything about him; if he slipped up, she would be able to tell if he said who he was or not. When the conversation shifted to her however, she felt a bit uncomfortable. She recited the cover story she had about Bruce and he seemed satisfied with her moving from DC after she broke up with him. He didn't pressure her into too many questions, which she was relieved about, and slowly the conversation shifted back to him again.

"So Chuck, what about you? Any skeletons in your closet? Any women?"

"Yeah… yeah. There was this one girl, in college actually," he began. He started to look unhappy, but when he caught her gaze, he shifted back to the old Chuck she had already met. "But that's all over with now and her restraining orders are very specific!"

Sarah actually found herself laughing that night, even though she hadn't meant to. True laughter was a unfamiliar to her; she hadn't laughed properly for a while. Chuck was indeed, as he had put it, a funny guy. This only made the situation stranger though. Enemy operatives didn't tend to tell jokes, or take women out to quaint restaurants and tell them all about their lives in such detail. The realisation that he was a normal guy kept niggling at her every time he told her a bit more about himself, but her spy instincts, the instincts that had kept her alive more than she cared to remember, made sure she would see the assignment through until the end… guilty until proven innocent.

"I have a question for you Chuck." She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin before he nodded in assent for her to continue. He began to take a sip of water when she asked, "Why didn't you call me back?"

The sound of choking mixed with surprise took over Chuck as he pretty much inhaled the glass of water. He went bright red and began to cough, hitting his chest to get the water to go down the right way. He blinked a couple of times widely before his face began to return to its normal colour as the short fit subsided. Apparently he had made enough noise that a couple of the other restaurant patrons had looked his way in concern "What do you uh, what do you mean Sarah?"

"I think you know," she responded. "I gave you my card, I expected you to call me back as soon as you got off work. I didn't think you had assumed I gave it to you solely for tech support."

"Heh, well… I'm sure you've noticed by now that I'm not the most subtle person around women… and well. There are women, and then there's you Sarah Walker."

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking a small sip of her water innocently.

"If you hadn't noticed over the years, you're gor-you're very pretty. Pretty girls don't tend to talk to ner-guys like me very often, and even then they are rarely the ones to ask me out, when there's a sea of better guys out there. Let's just say I was too scared to call."

Sarah smiled at the compliment and looked back down at her nearly empty plate of food, glad that he was a bit scared of going out with her, which meant she was in total control. "So you said you went to college, huh?" Sarah pressed gently, deciding to move into more important matters. She knew he went to college with Bryce, so seeing if he would mention his ex roommate could be a breakthrough she needed.

"Yeah, Stanford man here," Chuck said awkwardly, beginning to look a bit upset again.

"What year did you graduate?" she asked.

"I didn't," he huffed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she took this as an opportunity to make a bit of physical contact, to remind him who she was and what she represented. He smiled at her hand on his wrist and wiped his face, before the happy Chuck returned to her again.

"Nah, its fine. I've been depressed about it for long enough now. I never graduated because I was kicked out for something I never did." When he saw Sarah's questioning gaze, he continued. "They thought I was running some sort of test-selling scheme. Apparently they found some test answers in my room, which is absurd, because, without blowing my trumpet or anything, I was acing every single exam I was taking. Ugh… Bryce Larkin…"

Sarah froze as she heard the name. He had said it; he had admitted he knew Bryce. "Bryce Larkin?"

"Bryce Larkin," he repeated, chuckling to himself. "The man who got me kicked out of Stanford, and is the sole reason why I'm now working at a regional electronics outlet rather than making my own software for a living." He shook his head before looking up at her. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to be such a downer. It won't happen again, I promise. Stanford is just a bit of a touchy subject for me."

"Chuck, its fine. Everyone has things from their past they don't always want to speak about," Sarah reassured, rubbing his arm again. Wait a minute; hadn't she taken her hand back earlier? What was it still doing on his wrist? She gingerly removed it and a waiter came past and gave them the bill. Sarah went for her purse to pay her half, but before she could act, Chuck had already paid for the meal and tipped the waiter as he walked by again. "The man should always pay," he cheekily grinned. She smiled back, although she was a bit annoyed that he paid, considering how low his salary was compared to hers. Plus she could claim it under expenses probably, so technically, they both should have been able to eat for free.

"What's the plan now then?" she asked as they left the restaurant and were walking across a bridge, the opposite way from where the Nerd Herder was parked. She had half expected a movie, or to maybe already go back to her place, since she had already made herself perfectly clear through body language and physical contact that she was interested.

"Well, do you like music?"

"I guess," she revealed. Frankly, she didn't have time for music in her line of work. Music was a distraction; it got in the way carried emotions, which were what got a spy killed. She didn't even listen to music when she worked out or went running, her heartbeat and sweat the only rhythms she needed.

"You guess? What's your favourite band?" He turned to her and she was at a loss for words, trying to pick a name from anywhere in her mind, but none came. "Oh my gosh… oh my gosh!" he laughed and turned to look down at the road below.

"God, I'm not funny, I don't listen to music, this must be your worst date ever right?" Chuck had stopped moving. He just stared over the bridge. Sarah couldn't tell what he was looking at, but he had stopped for ten seconds without moving, and barely breathing. "I was waiting for you to say no," she frowned.

It took him a second but he eventually swerved round, casting a glance back at the road, then returning to normal. "Sorry… I uh, I kinda zoned out there for a second." His eyes looked slightly glazed, and he winced momentarily when he began to speak. What the hell was going on?

Their next destination was a club. Chuck managed to get them straight in, clearly by knowing the man on the door, or maybe he had already booked them in, which would have been odd because he had no idea if Sarah had liked music or not before the date. To begin with, they had sat down and just listened to the music playing in the seating area. It was nice, but Sarah was a bit uncomfortable, especially as not many words exchanged between them, primarily due to the loud music. Eventually, she moved on to stage two of her plan to get him to trust her, and grabbed hold of his hand, yanking him towards the dance floor. "Let's dance."

"I'm not really much of a dancer," he stammered, clearly reluctant to take one step away from the seating area.

"Luckily for you, I'm a very good dancer," she growled, "Come on." She gave him a large yank that caused him to stumble towards her, nearly tripping over passing people. She grabbed hold of him and he stood at full height. Sarah had always considered herself tall; and she was tall, but he made her feel tiny. If he grew some stubble and worked out a bit more, he could look like the type of guy you didn't want to cross, even though his eyes suggested kindness and sincerity, although now his eyes were widened in pure terror. Maybe he wasn't a dancer after all.

He began to shuffle awkwardly, casting glances around to see how other men were dancing before adjusting to their style. After a few minutes, he began to calm down, and with a new song starting to play, he actually began to smile and look like he was enjoying himself. Sarah took this as an opportunity to show him what she meant when she said she was a good dancer. If touching his arm in the restaurant had been a crime, the way she was dancing was probably outlawed in several countries. She let her hair flow wildly and she stood close to him as she rubbed his body provocatively with various parts of hers. She managed to catch glimpses of his eyes, which weren't sure whether to continue to stare at her in pure terror, or to look away entirely to hide his worry. Clearly, he hadn't met any girls like her before, which worked well for Sarah. He clearly decided to opt for a compromise between the two, and was looking everywhere and anywhere when she wasn't facing him, but staring directly at her when she looked at him. His gawp turned into a look of awe, and disbelief as she continued to dance. If he hadn't worked out by now that she was interested (or at least her cover was interested), there may not be any hope for Chuck Bartowski.

* * *

They continued to dance until they were both exhausted, Chuck rubbing his neck a bit from all the head twisting. After the first song had passed, she had toned it down quite a bit, clearly not wanting to scare Chuck off on their first date. If she was honest with herself, she was a bit worried she had come on too strongly altogether. It had passed through her mind that maybe he was gay, but that thought soon ceased when she remembered the looks he had given her of immense attraction. Most marks would have taken her to a hotel by now, and she would have opened her legs for the good of the country, shutting off all emotions and faking any joy she may have made from the contact with another human; boosting a man's ego was apparently very important if they wanted to trust you.

Frankly, she was quite thrilled with this new type that Chuck represented. Chivalry, it seemed, wasn't dead. It was a pity that she had to get the information in six days now, or she may well have been happy to take things a bit more slowly. They had arrived back at her hotel and he had escorted her up to her floor, making sure she got home safely. They stood outside a bit awkwardly and began to say their goodbyes, Chuck still a bit sweaty from the dancing, and her still a bit nervous about her attitude that night. She decided to put his mind at ease.

"I had a wonderful night Chuck," she smiled politely. "I'm sorry if I came on a little strong… on the dance floor earlier." If she was to see him again, she had to reinsert the idea that she was after a relationship and not a quick fling. Chuck seemed like the kind of guy who liked relationships, so she had to play it cool.

"Yeah, I mean no, no, not at all, I completely get it." She smiled; it was cute when he babbled.

"You do?" she asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you just moved here, big city, you just broke up with your boyfriend, its fine. I had fun too."

Sarah's mouth dropped. He thought he was a rebound date? "Oh God no, Chuck no! You're not… I mean, I didn't come to you because of Bry-Bruce. I asked you out because of you. I like you Chuck."

That seemed to settle his mind a bit and he removed the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck and rubbed it on his jeans, before holding it out to her. "Well Ms Walker, it has been a pleasure."

Sarah eyed his hand curiously. A handshake? After tonight? "You know, decorum states that a women offer to shake a man's hand, and not the other way round." She stood up straight and put on her most serious face, hands squarely on her hips.

"Oh, I er…" he put his hand away and turned to leave, before Sarah smirked. She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him back around to face her.

"Listen Chuck. You know I just moved here, and I was wondering if we could meet up again. You said you'd help show me around; could we make a day date of it sometime or something? I'd really like it if you said yes."

Chuck stood there momentarily unsure what step to take. He began to speak, but no words came out, so it looked like he was speaking behind soundproof glass. He cleared his throat and a smile splashed across his lips. "I would like that very much Sarah. I'm free the day after tomorrow if that's okay?"

"Great. You can show me all the sights around Burbank." They both looked down to see she still held onto his hand, and with a smile she shook it firmly. "Mr Bartowski; until we meet again."

He grinned and went to leave, but she still held onto his hand; not too tightly to cut off the circulation, but just enough to make sure he couldn't break free without forcing it. "Sarah, my h-" he began but was cut off as she gave him a short kiss on the cheek. Sarah laughed and released his hand as he turned a very deep shade of red. She had half hoped that he would kiss her back, and she could get this assignment over and done with. He seemed too innocent, too genuine… too good to be true. Instead however, he gave her a sheepish grin and waved goodbye as he got into the elevator.

Sarah went back into her apartment and leant back against the door, sighing deeply. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she knew he was the root of the issue. He gave her so many mixed signals. One second he was charming, polite and timid around women, traits which were almost endearing. The next he was zoning out like he was on narcotics, avoiding talking about his past and openly admitted to knowing a rogue CIA agent. What was she to do? What would she tell Graham? As far as he was concerned, Chuck was expendable, and a threat to national security, and it would be easier to finish it before anything could be started; but this Chuck had friends, family, and a life here in Burbank. She couldn't just break that up, and wouldn't unless she had to.

For now, she needed a shower and a strong drink.


	3. A Bomb In LA

Chapter 3.

Hey all. I did intend to upload this chapter sooner, but I actually went through about four different versions of this chapter, which directly affected the storyline of at least the first arc of this here tale. So, after picking a new one which I'm sorta happy with, my buffer has disappeared, now useless. So I hope you're all happy with yourselves… talking about storylines I hadn't thought of… giving me new and fun ideas *grumble grumble* That does mean that this is a bit of a filler chapter with no Sarah/Chuck interaction, but in the next one, all hell is gonna break loose so to speak.

Hope you enjoy though! I'm also gonna post a bit from a certain grunting spy's PoV to push the story along. I tried to make a bit of continuity from the first chapter in the way spies think, dunno if it worked out or not. Let me know what you think! Also editted the summary a bit, because it was bugging me at how vague it is.

Disclaimers: I don't own Chuck, bad times.

* * *

Six people were dead. Seventeen more were in a critical condition at the hospital. One amongst them was General Stanfield, who had come to Los Angeles to give a speech on the state of the American army, and how it took the minds of smart young officers, whose ranks didn't necessarily reflect their leadership abilities, to open America's eyes to changes that needed to be made. Apparently it had been a good speech, until the bomb went off that is. Someone had been trying to kill the General, and it was by a pure stroke of luck he hadn't been killed. Apparently a waiter had gone to wheel the trolley rigged with C4 back to the kitchens when he uncovered the truth. They had begun to evacuate, but there hadn't been enough time, Stanfield wasn't able to move fast enough. If he died, there would be an international incident, he was well respected by his peers and they would want vengeance.

Apparently, the explosion was covered up as a gas mains rupture, resulting in the blast coming from the kitchen. The Press were having none of it though; bombs didn't tend to go off in swanky LA hotels. Frankly, Sarah thought, they should be calling it a miracle that more weren't killed. Instead, headlines were no doubt already being written on a new wave of terrorism spreading to Los Angeles. As always, the papers made the CIA's job harder by spreading fear around like diseases that risked growing out of control. The joys of the freedom of speech…

Sarah shook her head clear of these thoughts and took out her phone. The Director, Langston Graham, had called her when she was on her date with Chuck last night, no doubt about said explosion, and she had to call him back. Unfortunately for Sarah, this would mean she was in big trouble. Langston Graham was a kind man at the best of times, and the Devil in a suit at the worst of times. Considering the current situation, it was the latter. They would have expected her, or any of the agents operating in Los Angeles to have picked up on the chatter about the bomb. She was already in the doghouse with Larkin going rogue, and if she wasn't able to complete her current mission without falling for Chuck's nice-guy routine, her exemplary record was as good as kindling.

Before dialling the number which she knew off by heart, she paused and took a deep breath, pushing all the negative feelings from her mind. She needed to appear as professional as possible. Even though she tended to do things by the numbers, no spy was completely orthodox in their methods; that's what made them so good at their jobs. But the suits at the top of the spy world wouldn't like to think that all their hard spent millions of dollars were going to waste on people that didn't follow their training to the letter. Even though Sarah was one of the best, it didn't mean that she didn't have her weaknesses too. In her mind, she felt she was far too trusting in some situations. If someone was indistinguishable as a bad guy or good guy, she tended to lead towards the latter. It meant devastation when she was proven wrong, but it also made them a lot easier to seduce. That was one of her other problems with the spy business; seductions. Due to a childhood she'd rather keep quiet about, which resulted in a disgustingly low sense of self-esteem, she should have been one of the top seductresses in the CIA, but she didn't have the heart for it, and often voiced her distaste when given these missions, but like the good spy she was, she did as she was told, her self-esteem dropping more and more. She was afraid that one day, she would be little more than a government whore, when she didn't have the heart to refuse anymore, or when her physical fitness had dropped so her physique was all she had going for her. The thought terrified her, but she didn't voice these concerns to Langston Graham, even though she probably should have if she wanted change in her routine. Speaking of the Director… she dialled the numbers on the phone and said a couple of code phrases that put her through to CIA headquarters.

"Walker, secure," she recited as the CIA put her through to the Director. He had clearly been waiting on her call.

On the other end of the phone, she heard a man weary with a full night's work respond. His voice was normally husky, but now it was just strained. "Graham, secure." The voice at the other end of the phone sighed deeply, before he continued. "Why didn't you hear any chatter about a bomb in Los Angeles?"

Sarah gulped. Her choice of words would have to be precise and to the point, if she wanted to keep her credibility as a top agent intact. "Sir. Despite working through several channels to find out all I could about Charles Bartowski and the whereabouts of the Intersect Project, nothing was said at anytime about enemy operatives on our soil, assuming it wasn't one of our own."

"That's a dangerous allegation Walker, suggesting a USA agent tried to assassinate a decorated General."

"Speaking freely Sir, I don't think it's safe to strike rogues off the list yet."

"No, you're right and the thought had passed through my mind. If you hear anything about the incident last night, no matter how vague, you drop _everything_ and call me ASAP. We need to get to the bottom of this."

"Yes sir." Sarah smiled weakly; she had dodged the bullet there. It frustrated her just how cut-throat the CIA could be, one slip up and you were on a desk job pushing pens for the rest of your days before you become somebody's red test and wind up with an unmarked grave somewhere.

"Now onto our next order of business. The Intersect. Our technicians believe that the Intersect could have detected this bomb's whereabouts, and if we had control of it, this entire situation could have been averted."

"What are you saying Sir?"

"Bring him in Walker. We need that Intersect now."

"But Graham, you said I had more time. I haven't ascertained if he's telling the truth or not yet. If I just had the rest of the week-" She had been too taken aback by the change of plans that her thoughts of remaining professional were all but thrown out of the window. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she had a plan, and everything had already been set in motion.

"No."

"I'm sorry Sir, no?" She didn't normally get refused by the Director, he chose to trust her judgement, and so far hadn't been let down.

"People are dead Sarah. The NSA wants their intel back _yesterday_, and they've given Casey the order to pick him up. We can't risk letting him get a hold of Chuck Bartowski. You need to pick him up and let us find out if he's telling the truth or not, there will be an extraction team waiting for you at LAX, you know the drill."

"But Sir, he's just an ordinary nice guy, I mean… he doesn't seem like the kind of person to get wrapped up in… what we do. He won't last interrogation!"

"Nice guys aren't sent Government secrets." Graham sighed. "You have your orders. I expect them to be filled out to the letter. If they aren't, I'm holding you personally responsible for any more deaths that could have been prevented by the Intersect."

"But sir-"

He hung up before she could finish.

Sarah threw her phone onto her bead and rubbed the bridge of her nose begrudgingly. This was not how it was supposed to go. She wasn't meant to see Chuck today, she was going to catch up on some paperwork, check the surveillance feeds in his room to see if his story had been holding up and maybe if she had time, call one of her contacts to see if there were any leads about this bomb incident. Instead she would have to break her cover, possibly even break his heart in the process, and maybe even break his mind if the NSA had their way with him. If he had, for any reason downloaded the Intersect, they would pick him clean like vultures on a carcass. At least if the CIA got to him, they may give him a padded cell instead of a ditch somewhere. Maybe she would even be able to visit him.

That thought was soon pushed out of her head. For starters, she shouldn't be thinking about that right now, and secondly, she sincerely doubted he would like to talk to the woman who betrayed his trust and basically ruined his life.

But did she have to break his trust? She was Sarah freaking Walker; she could bring him in without him ever knowing she was an Agent. She'd keep her credibility and get the job done at the same time. No psychological trauma, no problem.

"Smart move Walker," she smirked and got to work formulating an extraction plan. There was a CIA holding facility a few blocks away from the Buy More, designed as an Ice Cream parlour. If she could get him there before Casey found him, she could make sure he was safe before contacting the extraction team in LAX. She had to move quickly though. The CIA and NSA operated quite differently. She had no doubt the NSA would have any qualms about bursting into his house, in front of his family and abducting him there and then, whereas the CIA would do it in private, no witnesses to an extraction. She just prayed to herself that whatever Chuck was doing for the next hour or two, he would stay in a very public place, just to be on the safe side.

* * *

The tall man smirked as he walked into the electronics outlet. The smell of nerd, the aura of virginity. Of course, he knew little of what went on in these places, but he could imagine. Almost instantly, his eyes landed on some drunken buffoon, very unorthodox at this hour of the day, and his small weasel friend. They peered at him from behind the welcome desk, and he had the feeling that they did this to all customers who walked into the Buy More, scouting out for women to harass or unknowing customers to scam.

He forced a smile and walked slowly up the counter, where the two of them just looked completely shocked at how imposing he was. An expensive suit, strong jaw-line and a hard gaze tended to give that impression.

"How can we help you Sir?" the weasel stammered. The drunk just stood there with his eyes wide open in a look of shock, like he was a deer in the headlights of an 18-wheeler.

"Well… Lester," he smirked, looking the man opposite him up and down. Not much on him really, clearly didn't work out, gave the impression that he was a bit of a pervert, but nowhere near as much as the man next to him, who was apparently called Jeff. Jeff and Lester, hardly the most exciting names, but they hardly gave the impression of being interesting people. "Where can I find a Mr Bartowski?"

"Chuck?" the drunk slurred, his eyes flailing wildly around the room like the world was spinning. It was barely lunchtime and this man was already off his head! Either the manager of this place had the patience of a saint, or was an awful manager. He was just glad he didn't have to work there, that would be hell on Earth.

"Ah yes, our good friend Chuck. As the… deputy supervisor of the Buy More Nerd Herd, I can do any call-outs on Mr Bartowski's behalf." He felt like Lester was trying to take him for a ride, not that it mattered. Within arms reach, he counted twelve different objects that could do serious harm to the man, one of which included using Jeff, who with a bit of momentum, could probably hurt quite a bit.

"No, just Chuck," he grunted, with an air of annoyance and a strong glare directly into Lester's eyes. Clearly, the two got the message and they pointed at the desk in the middle of the store, which appeared to be empty, but even from here, he could see a pair of shoes up on the desk.

Without saying a word, he walked up to the Nerd Herd desk, brushing a bit of dirt off his suit, careful not to reveal the two firearms he was carrying. That wouldn't do in a public place like this, not that anyone seemed to notice. Too busy looking at DVDs or paying a couple hundred bucks more than they should be on a new television.

As he neared the desk, he saw that the shoes belonged to a tall man with brown curly hair and a contented grin on his face. He was leant back in his chair with his hands behind his head with his laughable foot-attire (hardly appropriate for the workplace) planted on the desk. He looked damned happy about something, probably that CIA hooker they would have sent to him. Whoever she was, he probably had quite a ride last night. Poor kid probably never had an idea.

"Yo," Chuck grinned, taking his feet off the desk and standing up. Chuck was taller than him, but didn't have much muscle, could probably break his wrist without too much trouble if he resisted. "How can I help you?"

"I was told by those two back there, Jeff and Lester," he recalled, "that a computer I ordered was in the back waiting for me to come and pick it up. Could you go and get it for me? Everyone else seems to be busy."

"That shouldn't be a problem Mr…?"

"John," he replied. Wasn't much harm in giving him his first name, especially since it wasn't his real first name, but it had served him well since all those years ago in-

"Well Mr John," Chuck beamed. "If you follow me, I can take you to the storage room, and we'll see what we got." This kid's attitude was bugging him, something was off about it. He could tell from a glance that this kid wasn't some Black Market dealer, which meant if he had the Intersect still, he probably looked like he would break after five minutes torture, perfect from the NSA's point of view.

Chuck led him away from the Nerd Herd desk and walked towards one of the back rooms. "What kind of computer did you say it was?"

Casey frowned for a second, the cover computer in his mind had vanished and he was drawing blanks. After a second longer than it probably should have taken, he thought back to the reports of the bomb last night. The C4 had been hooked up to a laptop, and even though the entire situation had been a massive fuck-up, and he'd had a severe bollocking from his superiors for not preventing said situation, he still remembered the make of computer. "Prism Express laptop." He didn't say much more. That was as far as his knowledge of computers went. The NSA had their own OS, so he didn't care about this Windows vs Macintosh rubbish that apparently bothered these nerds on a daily basis.

"Ah, we just got in a new stock of those this morning." Chuck replied with a smile as they neared a door which read employees only. He took out a key card and pinned in a quick code to get through the door, which John assumed led to the storage rooms. "It's a fine computer, you'll love it. If you wait here Mr John, I'll be back in just a second with your brand new laptop. There'll be a couple of forms to fill in, and then you can be on your way!"

The kid's smile was annoying more than infectious, but John didn't tend to smile much anyway. He nodded slowly and Chuck walked through into the storage room, letting the door swing shut behind him. John let it nearly close before stopping it with his hand, so that it wouldn't make as much noise as it would with his foot, but would still stop it from closing. He waited a few seconds before slowly opening the door back up, and closing it very quietly behind him. Chuck was around the corner behind a stack of boxes, with addresses of customers plastered all over them. He clearly assumed John's laptop would be in said pile of boxes, if the laptop in question existed.

Casey slowly drew his pistol, and lifted it up until it was level with Chuck. The man still hadn't noticed him, which gave him the chance to edge closer until he had a clean line of fire. The pistol he currently held had real bullets, used for intimidation, whereas the second pistol he had held tranqs, for when they would exit the store. The chances were that Chuck could run faster than him, but with enough tranquiliser darts to drop a sumo wrestler, Casey felt the odds were strongly in his favour.

Chuck let out an exasperated sigh as he finished checking through the boxes. He turned to head back to the store, but as soon as his eyes met Casey's, he froze. Then his eyes landed on the pistol, and his hands shot up in the air. "Oh crap," he yelped.


End file.
